Instead, the leader's fist emerged from the folds of his cloak. Jalan saw it, a pallid blur streaking toward his face, then a cold blackness took him.
Akhrasut Neth The howling had not subsided. In fact, it seemed to Amira that even more wolves had come, and the sounds of their singing came from every direction. Full night had fallen, bringing with it a thick, clinging fog that dampened Amira's cloak and made her hair cling to her scalp. The belkagen had not returned to camp, and Gyaidun just sat there in the shadows, staring off into nowhere. Amira heard something approaching through the trees and caught her breath. She hoped it was the belkagen, but she feared it might be Haerul. She could hold her own against this barbarian chieftain no matter what the old elf said, but like it or not she needed their help, and she knew she needed the belkagen's assistance to navigate all the intricate customs and proprieties of these people. Besides, she'd had a few encounters with werewolves before. None of them pleasant. If Amira was right and Gyaidun's account of the Vil Adanrath matched with her own recollection of the lythari, she knew she had little to fear. If the accounts she'd read were true, the lythari were not afflicted monsters like other werewolves. Still, she recalled the belkagen's words to her. They are a people of pride and honor, and their chief, Haerul, has pride and honor like none I've ever seen. Scratch it at your peril. She'd already seen Lendri angered, and war wizard that she was, remembering the gaze he'd fixed upon her still sent a shiver up her spine. Amira huddled in her elkhide blanket next to the fire and kept her eyes fixed on the direction from which she heard the sound. More than one person was coming, but she'd only just noticed the second.
Both moved with a furtive grace and quiet she'd seen only among animals. A wolf emerged from the shadows between the trees, bounding through the brush to approach the fire with no hint of fear. Amira recognized Mingan, and Lendri came into view not far behind him.
Despite the chill, he wore only a loincloth, and he carried no weapons. Gyaidun rose to greet him and they embraced, exchanging words in their own language. Lendri gave Amira a small bow, then said, "The Vil Adanrath have come." "You convinced the omah nin?" said Gyaidun.
"I did little more than offend my brother and rouse my father's ire anew. It was the belkagen who convinced Haerul to come. They are camping on the other side of the spring." A wry, almost mischievous smile broke the elf's grim countenance. "My father has heard you are here." "He won't even come to greet his daughter's husband?" said Amira. Gyaidun said nothing, but the look Lendri gave Amira made her wish she'd held her tongue. "Our ways are not your ways, Lady Amira," he said. "You need not tell me that." "He does, however, send greetings to the War Wizard of Cormyr and bids you well come to his lands." "His lands?" "Akhrasut Neth is sacred to the Vil Adanrath. As the omah nin, Haerul's word is now law here, and he welcomes you as his guest." Amira didn't know whether to be offended that he hadn't greeted her himself-at the very least with a summons-or thankful that he hadn't ordered her captured for sharing a fire with a man he'd outlawed. She remembered her mother's words, pounded into her from childhood-When you don't know the proper words, courtesy serves best-and so she simply said, "Thank you. Tell him thank you." "My father's words to me are the last he will speak," said Lendri. "And even those he gave only at the belkagen's urging. No more will his honor permit. You wish to thank him? Thank him yourself. He has sworn to kill me if I speak to him again." "How many has he brought?" asked Gyaidun. "Forty hunters arrived with us tonight," said Lendri. "He has summoned more, but I do not think he'll wait for them. A great hunger and rage fills him. Please do not provoke anything, Brother. The omah nin is thirsting for blood. Give him no excuse to spill yours."
Gyaidun opened his mouth to say something, but Durja cut him off, flapping his wings and cawing. Despite the noise, Amira thought she caught the sound of larger wings alighting in one of the trees just outside of camp, and by the time the raven had quieted, settling in atop Gyaidun's shoulder, the belkagen was walking back into the light of the fire. The old elf held his staff in a firm hand, and he looked grim, reminding Amira of a lord about to pronounce grave judgment on a vassal. He spared Lendri and Gyaidun a glance, then fixed his gaze on Amira. "It is time, Lady."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Akhrasut Neth
The belkagen led the way, threading a winding path up Akhrasut Neth through ravines filled with thousands of years of shattered stone and sand. Low trees with thick, twisted roots clung to the rocks, and even this late in the year their small, waxy leaves were thick and vibrant. Amira followed the belkagen, staying close, for neither of them carried a torch, and with the canopy of cloud hiding the moon and stars, the night was dark. She knew Lendri and Gyaidun were following-the big man carrying the deer-but she heard them more than she saw them. In the almost total darkness, her surroundings were little more than varying shades of murk. She stumbled several times and would have fallen once had she not had her staff to steady her.
She cursed herself, knowing what a terrible racket she was making, though the others moved with little more noise than the breeze through the brush. Amira knew elves could see like owls in the dark, and even Gyaidun seemed to be having little trouble. Now and then she heard others following as well-the turning of a stone, gravel sliding under stealthy feet, a branch sliding over a passing body-but she never saw who was trailing them. The belkagen seemed unconcerned, so she followed his lead. About halfway up, they walked out of the fog. Amira could still see no better, but the darkness didn't seem as thick, and the air that came to her lungs had a dry bite. By the cold, she knew there'd be a thick coating of frost by morning, and if those clouds chose to release their burden, they'd have snow. The ground grew steeper, the trees smaller and farther between, and Amira soon found herself climbing more than walking, pulling herself over jagged boulders and up shelves of rock. Though she was quite warm in the clothes the belkagen had given her, climbing the rocks made her fingers stiff and cold. She was about to swallow her pride and call for a rest when their trail entered another ravine, and this time there were jagged steps cut into the rock. Though they were cracked and weathered with age, Amira knew they were far too straight and regular to be natural. Someone had carved these. The stairway doubled back on itself three times, and then the land flattened out. Before Amira's eyes, the darkness bled away into bright contrasts of shadow, gray, and silver, and she looked up. A jagged tear had opened in the clouds, and the edge of the moon shone down on them. Leaning on her staff and breathing hard, Amira looked back. Akhrasut Neth sat on a sea of fog, unbroken to the farthest horizon. Gyaidun and Lendri climbed the last of the steps, and Amira saw others behind them, the nearest just rounding the last twist of the stairs. She could not make out details in the moonlight, only pale shadows, but there were many of them, dozens at least. Some walked upright while some padded upward on all fours. Amira turned to the belkagen, who stood watching the sky not far away. "The Vil Adanrath are coming?" she asked. "The omah nin's pack and a few others, yes." "Why?" "They come to honor Akhrasut Neth. It is tradition." "What about…?" Amira looked to Gyaidun, the deer carcass still draped over his shoulders. "They will keep an honorable distance," said the belkagen. "Haerul knows what you do here this night. He may watch from afar, but he will not approach the exiles." Amira looked back down. The nearest of the Vil Adanrath had seen them and stopped on the stairway. Even as she watched, the rent in the clouds passed over the moon, and the world plunged into darkness again. "We must go," said the belkagen. "Midnight is not far off." They set off, Amira following the belkagen. Again she had to follow him more by sound than sight. The trail wound through more trees, some of which stood beside the trail itself so they had to duck through branches to pass. After stumbling over the third root, Amira stopped and said, "Belkagen, is there some taboo against torches?"